


pareidolia (nestle in the eye of your mind's storm)

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU - No ZA, Adoption, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Good Brother Merle, M/M, Married Rickyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 08:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17998598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: "The lake was quiet and Daryl loved it for that. He loved being able to hear the water ripple around his naked ankles as he stared up at the sky, not one bit careful about not burning his skin or eyes in the heat of the Georgian sun. He squinted at the birds chirping ahead and he tried to empty his mind of all its swirling thoughts but it didn't work.None of it had worked yet. None of the usual stuff had worked yet."





	pareidolia (nestle in the eye of your mind's storm)

**Author's Note:**

> Been a while since I posted anything but this came to life somehow. It was supposed to be a funny twist around of my 'Mutual Pining' bingo square and then it wasn't funny at all so, huh, yeah, this has happened before lol. Hope you like it!
> 
> Great thanks to SerenaLunera for beta-reading this one, ily.

“So, anyway, that’s why I told her I’d shop for my bras and make-up somewhere else next time, yeah?” Shane rolled his eyes when Rick just nodded and grunted some vague assent, his gaze lost out the window of the patrol car, same as it had been for their entire lunch break so far. "Rick? You with me, man?" 

Still no sign of Rick acknowledging Shane. That wasn't gonna cut it.

Shane waved two fingers in front of his partner's face. Well, waved. Shoved, rather. Shane shoved two fingers in Rick's field of vision. Two fingers that soon became five and even sooner, seeing none of that worked any better than the absolute shit he'd been telling him for the last fifteen minutes or so, Shane lost his patience. Granted, he had but a short supply of that but he felt he was quite justified this time. 

"Man. Seriously, you gotta tell me what's gotten into you, you're acting weird and distant and that's just creeping me out." 

Nope. Concern and invectives didn't work either.

Shane grabbed Rick's shoulder and shook. Plain shook him.

"What the fuck, Shane?"

"Fucking finally!" Shane exulted, "Oh no no don't ya give me the head tilt stare. You've been  _ Out _ , man. What the hell is up with you?"

"Oh. Uh. Nothing." Rick went back to staring out the window but Shane could see he sat differently than he had just a few minutes prior. 

Before Shane had finally gotten his attention Rick had been relaxed in the way you are when you're lost in thought which he clearly was. Now though, now, he sat stiffly, his shoulders squared and his brow furrowed. 

"C'mon brother, talk'to me," Shane pushed.

"I---Daryl," Rick started.

"Yeah? What about him?" Shane tried to encourage him to keep going when Rick just kept on glaring at the clouds.

"He hasn't talked to me in three days, that's what." 

"What? Oh, no not again," Shane broke off laughing, "What did you do this time?" 

"I didn't do anything! Why does everybody think it's my fault all the time?" 

"'Cause it usually is, man," Shane shook his head, "You talked about this with someone else already?" Shane continued and he couldn't help the twinge of jealousy that colored his voice.

Rick chuckled but it wasn't exactly merry, "Yeah, Carol."

"Oh," Shane nodded, "Good call," and it was, if anyone could sort out Daryl when Rick himself was at a loss it would be Carol, no doubt there. "What did she tell you?" 

"That I better figure out what I did wrong before he ran out in the woods looking for answers," Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, "That she'd kick my ass if he turned up on her doorstep with his kicked puppy face."

"But what did you do? Seriously? And, kicked puppy face? On a Dixon?" 

"Shut up. You know what I mean, yours is more the rabid dog kind in situations like this I know but still, you know," Rick gave him a pointed look and Shane indeed shut up, he did know what a sad, overthinking Dixon looked like and it was never a fun sight, for anyone. Let alone the people married to them. 

"I asked him about children again," Rick whispered after silence had filled the car again, "I thought he was ready, I thought we were ready." 

"Oh?"

"Hmm. He didn't say anything, just upped and left the room, went straight to bed and didn't talk to me since," Rick's voice was trembling and Shane's heart squeezed hard. He tried not to be prying, he tried not to stare as Rick's eyes let out the tears he'd probably been keeping in for a long while. He gave him as much space as he could bear to, until he had none left and nature took over. He leaned over the console and crushed Rick's side into a hug, his forehead to Rick's right temple.

"S'okay, man, get it all out, go on," Shane murmured, his fierce, protective love seeping through each of his words, "You let it all out and then we'll see to find Darebear, okay?" 

Rick nodded wetly. “I miss him, man.”

 

* * *

 

The lake was quiet and Daryl loved it for that. He loved being able to hear the water ripple around his naked ankles as he stared up at the sky, not one bit careful about not burning his skin or eyes in the heat of the Georgian sun. He squinted at the birds chirping ahead and he tried to empty his mind of all its swirling thoughts but it didn't work.

None of it had worked yet. None of the usual stuff had worked yet. He’d thought he might just go hunting and that would help but the truth was his hands hadn't stopped the faint trembling they'd taken on three days prior and he didn't trust them to not straight up shoot an arrow into his own foot. Self-harm was something he'd abandoned a long time ago. No more drinking with Merle till they both passed out. No more skipping meals like they didn't matter until he felt dizzy enough that he thought he'd deserved it. No more cigarettes burning circles on the skin of his arms. The crossbow was supposed to be a symbol of his safe haven and if he couldn't manipulate it safely then he steered clear of it, period. No hunting didn't mean he couldn't navigate his second best place on earth, though. So here he was, feet wiggling in the clear lake water, pants dragged up to his knees and hands clenched into fists at his sides.

It was quiet all around, peaceful. His mind was a storm. 

Rick.

Daryl didn't know what to do anymore. He couldn't stand the look on the other man's face, day after day, stricken with something he'd only ever seen on wounded people down at the hospital. Rick looked hurt to a level Daryl never thought he'd see on his face. And certainly not because of him. He thought he was being so careful, so cautious not to ruin everything like he usually did. Rick was everything. Everything he couldn't lose in this life. 

But he had to go on and want children. 

Daryl wanted that, too. Even wished science wasn't a thing and they could just have babies with wavy brown hair and a mole at the corner of their mouths. But they couldn't. He thought they'd done it, when that Michonne woman had told them the certification was theirs and they would have a child. They would.

It didn't happen. The biological parents bailed out. Or they chose other adoption candidates. And no matter how much reassuring mushy shit Rick whispered in his ear, Daryl couldn't unsee the crinkled paper of the adoption forms they'd left in a drawer of Rick's desk. He couldn't not hear the voice of his dead pa, telling him he'd never have anything good in his life. Couldn't help but think it was him. 

Months had passed since they'd asked to renew their certification and notice that they were indeed, up to adopt a kid. They didn't even really have an age group in mind even if it was clear Rick was baby Dad material. 

Months had passed and Daryl thought his guilt had eased, until Rick asked again three days before. Asked if maybe they could try to enter a foster-to-adopt program instead. 

If Daryl hadn't been so surprised by the renewed force of his guilt, he might have stayed and recognized Rick's question for what it was - a subject worth discussing, worth considering. Instead, the pain had been so strong it took him off his chair and guided him to their bed in long strides, head bowed so Rick wouldn't see, wouldn't read him like he always managed to. 

He'd gone to bed and cried dry tears. Water rarely poured out anymore but the way his shoulders jumped, that alone was a relief as he laid in the dark, his back to the door. He hadn't turned around when Rick had come in, hadn't given him any sign that he was awake when he'd passed a hand in his hair and down to the small of his back, palm soothing and fingers crooked just that side of scratching, the perfect way to make Daryl purr. In normal circumstances. That wasn't it.

Daryl had scrunched his eyes shut and convinced himself he did the right thing shutting his mouth and letting Rick settle silently behind him. He'd tried like hell not to relax too much into his spooning embrace. He could have cracked a joke about him being clingy. That really wasn't the time. 

The truth was he wanted every drop of clingy he could get from that particular spoon, he needed it and at the same time he couldn't stop the voice in his head telling him he shouldn't. He shouldn't let himself enjoy this, he shouldn't because sooner than later Rick would finally realize that this was all Daryl's fault. That the only reason they didn't already have kids was because Daryl was damaged goods and no one in their right mind would trust him with their child, ever.

Nothing could make him open his mouth in the morning, nothing could make him open his mouth the day after, and the next either. 

Today had been no different. 

His lips had shut down and sealed any word that could escape. He wasn't sure what would come out if he did talk anyway. All he knew was that the pain on Rick's face every time he tried talking to him, every time he managed to steal a half-assed hug before work was excruciating. 

"Whaddafuck are you doin' in ma backyard, baby brother?”

Shit. Daryl startled and before he knew it, he muttered his first words in close to seventy-two hours, “Ain't yer backyard. Ain't yer anything.” 

“Oh, ya in a mood or somethin’?” 

Daryl visibly recoiled. His feet twitched over the sandy-rock ground, his right shoulder jumped with phantom pain. The only person he wanted to talk to was the one he couldn't manage to get a single word out to. Merle wasn't it. Merle wasn't the one he longed for. Merle wasn't the one whose forgiveness he desperately needed. 

Merle huffed, the way he did when he couldn't possibly figure out what was expected of him, if anything. Silence came back for a whole of two minutes and then the telltale sounds of water lapping and sloshing against its natural disposition filled Daryl's ears, liquid and thrashing. And Merle was standing there, hands on his hips, shoelaces tied together so his boots hung off his neck.

“Wanna stand there and say nothin’ or you gonna tell me what's happenin’?”

Daryl kept quiet, eyes scanning the sky once more. The more he stood there the more he heard the minutiae of nature around them. The deep, slow but constant rustle of the leaves of a hundred trees embracing the lake. The quiet, sound buzz of the clear green waters that seemed to zero in on him from the very outer circle, the first touch of water on land to Daryl's toes, the soles of his feet. Gentle vibrations, a tickling push, cool and soothing. 

A shrill ring broke the semblance of peace Daryl thought he'd found. More sloshing around and Merle answered his phone, “Dixon,”

“Oh, yeah, yeah ok, we'll be there...of course I'm with him whaddaya think?”

Daryl didn't hear much of what followed but he didn't need to listen to piece it together and he didn't know if he was relieved or annoyed. Didn't know much of what he was feeling anymore anyway apart from that deep ache in his gut telling him to follow Merle home. 

He thought he caught his brother whispering something uncharacteristically sappy but he didn't have the heart to give him shit about it. He just met his gaze when he turned back around and nodded awkwardly. 

His whole body thrummed with tension, his hands shaking on and on but Merle kept quiet.

They walked back to Daryl's messily parked truck in silence, only stopping at the edge of the lake to put their shoes back on.

They drove in the same fashion, Merle behind the wheel barely holding his nervous whistling back, Daryl's gaze jumping over the fields they passed. 

“You know I'm always here, right?” was all Merle said during the twenty-something minutes it took them to get back to the house. 

 

* * *

 

The unmistakable roar of Daryl's truck in the driveway shook Rick out of his staring at the wall. He tensed and relaxed at the same time, his hands twitched on his lap and his brow didn't seem to know whether it was supposed to furrow further or smooth out. 

Shane jumped off his seat on the couch next to Rick, squeezed his shoulder and got to the front door, all in a matter of seconds. 

Rick's eyes were riveted to the door of the living room. Merle's boots thumping on the hardwood floor and low drawl of his voice came first, right behind the thin wall that separated the two rooms. The door to the backyard swooshed open and closed and all was silent again apart from the light wind that came in the still open front door. 

The muscles of his thighs wanted Rick up and on his feet - not yet, not just yet. He could feel his heart beating in his stomach and his back so tense it felt as though it was being pressed and constricted inside and out, crushed in the emptiness of his skin. 

And then he heard it, he finally heard it. The resounding sound of Daryl's steel-toed work boots on the steps on the porch, muted by the carpet of the door, back to full force in the entryway. The clink of the door closing. The ragged breaths that his own mouth let out. And his legs, wobbly but determined let him stand as if by reflex the second Daryl's frame filled the narrow arch of the room.

He had dark circles under his eyes, the ones that meant he'd tried to cry over and over until puffy bags ate away the white and blue. Shaggy hair stuck to his temples and Rick couldn't resist taking a few steps towards him leaving but two feet between them. 

Their eyes clung to each other, desperate and glinting. Daryl's shoulders sagged just as Rick took his first real lungful of air that day. 

Who took the last steps didn't matter when Daryl's body crashed with Rick's, when finally, Rick's arms circled Daryl's waist and neck, his palm cradling the back of his husband's head and tightening their embrace. 

They trembled there between the couch and TV console. Unaware of anything but each other and Rick thought he felt tears down his neck, only later did he realize they were his.

“M'sorry,” Daryl's voice croaked broken and Rick could only try to strengthen his hold on him further. He knew. He should have known better from the start but holding the trembling body of the man he loved, he knew. The doubts and the self-incriminations, the pain, raw and howling inside. 

“I love you,”  _ more every day and for the rest of our lives if you'll have me _ .

  
  


* * *

  
  


“It's kids again, isn't it?” 

Shane hummed, lost deep in his husband's eyes, thinking. “If we have one,” he started, smiling softly at Merle’s tsk, “Fine,  _ when _ we decide it's time, I'd rather we find a surrogate, save us the heartache.”

Merle did this thing he did when he weighed in things in his head like he was chewing the inside of his cheek, Shane knowing the precise moment he was done when his broad, smoker grin drew back on. He couldn't help it, he smiled right back even as he waited for the man's answer.

“Yeah, ok, but we gonna use yer swimmers then, ain't about to give my genes to an innocent baby,” 

Shane’s laughter was pure joy and tenderness. He slid on the step of the porch they were both sitting on until his side and Merle's melted and his head found its usual pillow on the man's shoulder. 

They left the house not too long after, a glance in the living room enough to tell them Rick and Daryl would be okay, huddled close together as they were on the couch, whispering gently. Breathing in a circle that was only them, only love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> To those of you who follow my other stories, rest assured, I am not abandoning my WIPS, life is just busier than it had been for a long long while and I need to cope (aka do nothing when I have free time haha).
> 
> xoxo
> 
> Also find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hogwartstoalexandria)


End file.
